Christmas, Continued

November 1

If Dashain felt like Christmas, then the five-day Tihar festival here in Gorkha bazaar was like being in the North Pole –and not because of the temperature (although it has started to get cold enough to see my breath during my morning walks).

Houses and shops were decked out with strings of lights, some which flashed and a few fancy ones even played music. On one occasion I swear I heard the tinkle of “Silent Night.” Instead of the reindeer statues and inflatable Frostys scattered across front lawns, families crafted rangalas on the cement steps in front of their houses. I watched my dai as he carefully drew the outline of a pointsetta-looking flower and fill it in with colored powder. And then it was my turn. Although the result wasn’t as elegant (I had “help” from my 3-year old brother), I got the seal of approval from some of the neighbors who had gathered around to watch.

Tihar is the annual Nepali festival of bread and light celebrated after Dashain, thus prolonging the holiday season (and an additional excuse for a school holiday!). Families once again gather for celebration, worshipping various animals, gift giving, and eating.

The plates of meat during Dashain were replaced with baskets of roti, a type of fried dough, made especially for Tihar. The preparation process reminded me of days spent in the kitchen decorating Christmas cookies…although we traded frosting and sprinkles for bags of frying oil. We filled an entire room with this sweet, greasy treat–even more than a week later, I’ve continued to feed off of the seemingly never-ending supply!

At home, my family often spends Christmas Eve peering out of frosty windows pointing out blinking airplane taillights to our youngest cousin, whispering, “Look! It’s Rudolph’s nose!” During Tihar, however, we were in search of a different four-legged friend. Cows are sacred here in Nepal (to kill a cow means an immediate jail sentence, which has made the concept of a hamburger a bit difficult to explain…). On the day of gia puja, “cow prayer,” Stutat and I walked hand-in-hand through the neighborhood to find a one of these holy animals. Breaking off our rachahbandhan bracelets we received two months ago, we fed the cow some freshly fried roti as a distraction while tying the bracelet threads to its tail. According to Hindu culture, this ensures your entrance into heaven.

But cows weren’t the only ones getting decorated for the holiday. On ‘brother/sister day,’ the males in my family received not one, not two, but seven different colored tikka in a line down their foreheads. My three other sisters and I carefully applied these powders after draping strings of popcorn and flower malas around their necks and handing them baskets of dried fruit and nuts. My dai explained how this holiday of gift-giving is meant to strengthen the bond between brothers and sisters (Bobby and Eliza, get ready for when I get home!). And in return, my dai presented me with a gift of two beautiful bronze Newari vases “to take home so I will always remember my Nepali family.”

And then ther's my 73-year old aamaa
playing on the "ping"!

And who can forget music and dancing? During the evenings for these five days (and “unofficially” for some days after!), a special dosirae song could be heard tinkling through various parts of the village. Like Christmas caroling, groups of children and adults alike dressed in their warmest attire and gathered in front of doorways and shops to sing, dance –and grab unsuspected foreigners who just wanted to watch. Yes, my fame from Teej earned me hours of dancing with my 10^th grade students in the middle of the streets. It’s tradition for dancers to show off their rehearsed moves until shop owners and residents bring out plates of rice, roti and rupees. The longer they dance, the more money they receive. Basically your Nepali dance marathon!